Page 77 of Make You Love Me
“Never? This happens a lot?”
“Nearly every time I see him.”
“And he hasn’t asked you out?” Her silence provides all the answers I need. “Did you go?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Jordan, why are we talking about this?”
“Because friends talk about these things.” And I want to know if I have competition. Fitness model-like competition with several college degrees, investments, and a full wallet and passport. “Did you talk to Sydney about it when he asked you out?”
She let out a long breath. “Yes. But I don’t want to talk about it with you.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Are you excited about tonight?” she asks to change the subject, and now that I know this Superman isn’t her kryptonite, I’m happy to let her.
“Yes. It sounds fun. Is this a place I need to dress appropriately for or is it casual?”
“According to pictures on social media, it looks casual.”
“Good. A leg cast and shorts isn’t very uptown.”
After changing and grabbing a bite to eat, we hit the road. An hour into the trip when the comedy channel starts repeating skits, I switch it off and remove the sling from my left arm, tossing it into the back seat.
“What are you doing?” she asks, cutting her eyes at me for a moment.
“My therapist said I can remove it some each day to work the muscles more. And I plan to work it good tonight.” I pump my fist like Tiger Woods after sinking a long curvy putt.
A grin alters her lips slightly, just enough for me to know my charm is wiggling its way under her skin.
“Is that your touchdown dance?” She laughs, sending tingles down my body and straight to my midsection.
“No, I’m Tiger—doesn’t matter. The point is, I plan to be doing a lot of celebrating tonight.”
“The only point I see is you think you’ll need two hands to beat me at the tables tonight?” She graces me with another superior grin, and I’m glad her spunk is back. It’s my second favorite side of hers.
“Not even close, but it will be easier to collect all my chips.”
“Whatever.”
“It won’t be the same as our private card games, though.”
“I hope not.”
“We should play sometime,” I suggest, curious to see what she’ll say.
“Which game?”
“Any of them.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Why not?” I turn in my seat to see her better. Her brows are pointed inward, and she’s frowning.
“They all involve getting naked or touching each other. Sorry,buddy, but I don’t touch my friends in a sexual way.”
